


the world is watching

by ladykestrel



Category: The Winner's Trilogy - Marie Rutkoski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:18:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2485892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykestrel/pseuds/ladykestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But, for one split second, Kestrel wondered how it would feel if some truth rang through the lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the world is watching

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the first half of TWC where Kestrel's reputation stars to fall apart because of the merciless rumors spreading throughout Valorian society. This could have definitely been better than it is, but the ideas I first had for the fic completely flew away when I didn't write anything for about 2 weeks. Nonetheless, I still hope you enjoy this. :)

Society was a vicious sort of animal, especially when it came to one of their kin. Society was the kind of wild beast that loved tearing at their own – it brought more pleasure than striking out the weak outcasts.

It was a fact well known, Lady Kestrel had bought a slave. Fifty keystones the Herrani had cost her. At first, the fact had puzzled the inner circles of Valorian high-society. Why would the General’s daughter pay such an outrageous sum for a brute of a man, a mere blacksmith?

The answer revealed itself the first time Lady Kestrel took her newly purchased slave to a society outing as an escort.***

The music room was warm and sunlit, bright beams steaming through the room’s windows. It was a gorgeous afternoon, perfect for a day out in society. For a stroll through the grounds or a ride down the riding paths.

Ronan had already called on her, inviting her on a picnic. When Kestrel declined the offer, he called on her again – this time for a horse ride. A race between the two of us perhaps, his note had read. And let the best one win. Kestrel had not even been tempted.

He did not call again.

Light filled the room, beckoning Kestrel to dance her way through the piano’s keys and add to the already illuminated space. Her fingers itched for melodies under their touch, her ears begged for notes to find their range. But Kestrel did not budge; she had not come here for this.

Kestrel waited.

She’d been here an hour already. It was getting disconcerting. Kestrel’s patience wore thinner than the thread of which her gown had been weaved of. It edged until it was sharper than the dagger at her thigh. Still, she sat and stared at the tiles.

A door creaked open. Kestrel more felt than saw the presence that had entered the room. Her eyes were still trained on the game board. She did not look up.

A lean figure took a seat opposite her, grey eyes boring into her very being. Kestrel felt the questions hit her live waves on a dock, crashing into her body, forcing her into answering. She was relentless, however. No dock that was Valorian built was going to be brought down by waves. Kestrel let the questions roll and wash over her, soaking her with their demands, but she held strong like stone.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Kestrel said. She still did not look at him.

“Why did you send for me.” The words rang more like a statement than an actual inquiry. Kestrel finally made herself look up from the game. Amber met steel when their gazes locked. Arin’s eyes were weapons he had created in the forge. They were swords, cutting into Kestrel and splitting her in two.

“I missed-“ Kestrel stopped. She had almost said you. Quickly regaining composure, she continued, “-playing Bite and Sting.”

“You just had a game with Irex the other day.”

“Arin,” Kestrel gave him what she hoped was a relaxed, teasing look. “We both know Lord Irex is not a worthy opponent.”

“And I am, of course.”

“Of course.”

Arin gave out a puff of air, an exasperated sigh. Kestrel felt something bubble up inside of her, like the apple cider Lady Faris had served, at Arin’s resignation. Then a storm cloud of unfamiliar dread loomed over her. Arin had not wanted to come in the first place. She was the one who had sought him out. She was the one that had given orders. She had forced him into playing. Suddenly, Bite and Sting did not sound like a good idea. Suddenly, Kestrel cursed herself for not accepting Ronan’s calls.

“Shall we start?” Arin’s voice brought her out of her stupor. Kestrel looked at him, and nodded. He started dealing the tiles. “Are the stakes the same as always?”

“Yes,” Kestrel replied. “Unless you have gotten yourself some matches.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then the stakes are the same. Now let’s play,” Kestrel’s voice echoed through the room, holding a ring of finality to it. Arin did not speak again.

***

The first round went to Arin. They’d been playing for a while, each of them proving to be a tough opponent to break. Kestrel, despite losing, did not go without a fight worthy of the General’s praise.

“Aren’t you going to ask me a question,” Kestrel said. Arin was quiet, his hands moving silently over the board, collecting the tiles. He was preparing for another game.

“No,” was all he said.

“But you won,” Kestrel exclaimed. “The reward is this, we had agreed.”

“I have no curiosity you could feed today. Shall we play more, or am I dismissed?”

“Another game, then.”

Arin spread out the tiles.

It was Kestrel that won the second time.

She contemplated what she should ask Arin, which one of her curiosities should he feed. There was something Kestrel really wanted to know the answer to, but she silenced the desire and picked another question to voice.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

“I am a slave, Kestrel. I have my duties.”

“Your duties are to do whatever I say.”

“You are not the only one that gives me orders.”

A bell chimed in Kestrel’s head. “Arin,” she started, “please tell me the truth. Was this my father’s doing?”

Arin remained silent, his thundercloud eyes looking down at the table. Kestrel had her answer. “Whatever my father has told you-“

“This is not about your father, Kestrel.”

“Then why don’t you meet my eyes?”

Silence echoed through the room, sounding like a sad song of the violin.

***

The third round it was once again Arin’s turn to win. He still refused to ask a question.

Kestrel dealt the pieces for another game.

***

The last tile was placed on the board, proclaiming one of them victorious.

“What will you ask me now?”

Kestrel looked puzzled. She did not know. She knew what she wanted to ask Arin, but what would she ask him was a different matter.

In the end, it did not matter. The thing that had been haunting her mind slipped out unbidden. “Does it bother you?”

Arin looked at her questioningly, “Does what bother me?”

“What people talk about.”

“I have never been interested in Valorian gossip.”

“Arin, you know what I mean.”

He sighed, “No, Kestrel, it does not bother me.”

“But why?”

“Because untrue words do not faze me. What your society talks about does not matter. Not to me.”

Kestrel turned his words over in her minds, examining each of them like she would calculate a fight of Needles. “You truly do not care for what is being said about you?”

“It has been long since I stopped paying attention to people’s opinions of me.” Then Arin stood. Kestrel thought he was going to leave, close the door on the game, on this room, on her. But Arin only walked around the piano, his calloused fingers trailing over the fine instrument.

“But do you not care for the opinion of the one you love?”

Arin’s head jerked up, his hand caught hovering over the keys. His eyes looked wild, a frightened beast raging its way through. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but Arin just kept staring at Kestrel with the same look of fear and anger in his slate eyes.

“Your sweetheart,” Kestrel elaborated, “the one from the market.”

The blacksmith’s body visually relaxed, the first he had formed with the hand resting on the piano unclenching.

“She couldn’t be concerned with your people’s blabbering.”

This time when Arin moved, it was to escape from the sunlit room and slam the door shut behind him.

***

Laying in bed that evening, Lady Kestrel picked out the pieces of Arin’s answer. She ran the conversation over in her head, trying to make sense of his words. How could he not be the least bit concerned about the gossip. He should be at most a little worried about how this would affect his lover. It was unfair of him not to consider the girl he had given his heart to.

Thinking about the girl from the market, Kestrel felt anger simmering on the brink of her. She remembered the anonymous letter she had received and the emotion grew. She thought about what Enai had said to her before her death. She recalled the looks society gave her every time she arrived with Arin by her side, acting as her escort. Just as the fire was cackling, the rage inside Kestrel cackled too.

But, for one split second, Kestrel wondered how it would feel if some truth rang through the lies.


End file.
